Farcaster

On the edge of a hidden island where the moonlight kisses the ocean and lanterns float like stars reborn, there lived a girl known only as Papiliona. They said she wasn’t fully human — part spirit, part dream, born from the final wish of a dying butterfly queen. Every year on the Festival of Lights, she emerged from the forest where she lived alone, draped in a silk cloak that shimmered like wings, to join the lantern ceremony by the sea. The villagers revered her, not just for her ethereal beauty or the violet glow in her eyes, but because wherever she walked, flowers bloomed in her wake even in the sand. That night, as she stood with the water lapping gently at her feet, a soft wind whispered through the trees. Her tattoo, a delicate butterfly etched in hues of magenta, began to shimmer faintly a sign that the spirit world was listening. She was waiting for something… or someone. Legend said the next lantern that drifted her way and didn’t burn out before reaching her would carry the soul of her de